


Of Cold and Coffee

by EbonyKnight



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cold Weather, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sherstrade Month 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 20:27:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9674933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbonyKnight/pseuds/EbonyKnight
Summary: An early morning callout has Greg forgetting his scarf and gloves in his hurry to get to the crime scene, and it's bloody freezing. Luckily Sherlock comes to his rescue.Irredeemable fluff and not a whole lot else.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.
> 
> Written in response to the Sherstrade Month 2017 prompts for day 11 (cold and rain) and day12 (coffee).
> 
> Not beta'd so all errors are my very own. 
> 
> Feedback is loved :)

“It’s bloody freezing,” Greg grumbled, rubbing his cold hands together as he Donovan stood stared the body of Samuel Grundy. A pair of Anderson’s SOCOs were working as quickly as possible to document and collect the evidence before the freezing rain washed it away, leaving the police officers with little to do but watch. 

“It’s February; what did you expect, coming out without your scarf and gloves?” 

Greg sighed and jammed his hands into his pockets, hoping that the material would offer at least some protection from the elements. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” he said, making no attempt to hide his displeasure. Getting called out to a murder at four in the morning wasn't high on the list of favourite things about his job. When said callout meant leaving an affectionate and attentive Sherlock Holmes in a warm, comfortable bed, it was about as low on the list as it was possible to get, and was a sure fire way to put him in a bad mood for the rest of the day. Managing to leave home without his scarf and gloves - in the middle of February no less - had been the final nail in the day’s coffin. 

Donovan snorted. “Course not. I’d lend you my gloves for a bit, but I doubt they’ll fit.”

A quick glance at his subordinate’s dainty hands confirmed that she was right. “How much longer?” Greg asked abruptly.

The SOCO closest to him looked up from her work, visibly irritated. “At least fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” came Sherlock’s deep voice, seemingly from nowhere. Surprised, Greg turned to find his partner at the mouth of the grungy alleyway with a large Costa cup in one hand. “I reckon you could finish in twelve if you put some effort in.”

“Who called you in?” Donovan asked, but there was a warmth in her voice that had been lacking in their interactions until recent months.

“Now, that would be telling,” Sherlock replied with a smirk, handing the paper cup to Greg once he was close enough. 

Greg lifted the cup to his lips and took a sip, eyes involuntarily closing in bliss. Though the latte was still a little too hot for his liking, the heat and smell and sweetness of the coffee worked together to dispel some of the grumpiness he'd been carrying since leaving home. “Oh, that’s good,” Greg moaned, quickly taking another swallow despite the stinging heat of the beverage.

“If you two would like some time alone together, you could have just said so,” Donovan said, voice full of laughter, and Greg opened his eyes to find her smirking at him. “Good coffee, is it?”

“Excellent idea, Sally,” Sherlock interrupted pleasantly before Greg could reply, taking him by the elbow to steer him away from Grundy’s body.

“Hey!” Greg protested, but did nothing to resist. Donovan’s laughter echoed in the alleyway and Greg knew that he was in for a ribbing later, but considering how well she'd taken their romantic involvement, he couldn't find it in himself to care.

Sherlock walked until they reached a doorway very close to the exit to the street. “Here will do,” he said, manoeuvring them into the tight space. 

“Will do for what?” Greg asked, wedging himself between Sherlock and the brick wall. It was a very tight squeeze with the both of them inside, but it offered some protection from the wind and Greg was grateful for the respite. 

“This,” his partner said, leaning in for a brief kiss. “You left before I was properly awake.”

The angle was bad, what with the limited space and Greg having one hand tied up holding his coffee, but he moved in for a second, longer kiss despite the awkwardness. “Sorry. Hate early morning callouts.”

“You really should consider going for DCI; you’re much better than the idiots currently in post and it would mean fewer early mornings.”

“I’ve thought about it, but I’m not sure I’m ready to be stuck behind a desk all day,” Greg replied, leaning back against the wall, cradling his coffee protectively.

“Think about it,” Sherlock said, eyes roaming Greg’s face. “You’re exhausted.”

As though Sherlock’s words had given permission, a yawn rose up and Greg was unable to stifle it. “Yeah, I know,” he said, voice muffled by a cold hand. “Three early mornings last week, and we didn’t exactly have an early night last night, did we?” Memories of the previous night played in Greg’s mind’s eye, and he felt his lips quirking into a smile. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes exasperatedly, but his smile was warm. He reached up and unwound his scarf, the waft of his aftershave released by the movement delightful to Greg after the less savoury odours that habitually came with bodies in alleyways. “I hadn’t realised you'd left yours at home,” he said, looping it around Greg’s neck.

“Thanks,” Greg said, just as Donovan called for him. He poked his head around the doorway and saw that the SOCOs were packing their gear away. “Coming!”

“I won’t linger; this one is so painfully obvious that even Dimmock could solve it without help.”

Greg huffed a laugh, tucking the ends of Sherlock’s scarf into his coat. “Yeah, it is a bit. Waiting on the CCTV but we’ve got a fairly good idea of what happened here.”

“Come to my flat when you’re finished,” Sherlock said, leaning in for a warm but brief kiss. “I have an experiment to start but we can order takeaway and you can watch that stupid show you’re addicted to.”

“Sounds good.” A warm flutter had taken up in Greg’s chest, chasing out some of the cold, but he did not examine it too closely. “See you later, then.”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied, flipping the collar on his coat, striding past the constable guarding the crime scene and out onto the street, where he quickly blended into the crowd.

Greg stepped out of the doorway, Sherlock’s scarf and the latte doing a wonderful job of holding some of the chill at bay. He approached the body, ignoring Donovan’s knowing smirk, feeling much more positive. “So, what have we got?”


End file.
